


so tell me you love me (only for tonight)

by stonesnuggler



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AHL All-Star Game, American Hockey League, Blow Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonesnuggler/pseuds/stonesnuggler
Summary: “We’re not going to do anything dumb like pretend to watch a movie or something, right?” Luke asks, giving Dylan an obvious once over. “Because, like --”Dylan snorts. “God, no.”“Sweet."





	so tell me you love me (only for tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> fueled by the one (1) picture of them on the ice together at the AHL All-star game.
> 
> title from wicked games by the weeknd

If someone were to ask Luke how he ended up in a crowded apartment in Utica, New York, a drink that’s basically half a handle of whiskey pressed into his palm, and Dylan Strome pressed to his side, he wouldn’t even begin to know how to answer.

Okay, so maybe he could, because Schmaltzy was the one who  _ bought  _ the whiskey, and he’s the one who invited Dylan to whatever thing is going down at Thatcher’s, so like. Luke is really to blame for all of this. 

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that Dylan is too warm and too comfortable where he’s smushed next to Luke, his own red cup in hand, but Luke doesn’t mind all that much. 

And like, objectively, Stromer isn’t the worst looking. He’s not sporting the sad excuse for facial hair that he normally is, and he’s got a nice drunk flush going, and the backwards snapback is really -- 

Okay, so he’s hot. He can admit it. 

Something hits him in the back of the head, and it sounds vaguely like an empty cup, but Luke is just annoyed enough not to care. He turns away from Dylan, finds Schmaltzy smirking at him as he sits in the arm chair. 

“Fuck’s your problem?” Luke asks, swings his leg so he can kick Schmaltzy in the shin. 

“You good there, space cadet?” he asks, takes an easy drink of the beer in his hand. “I’ve been calling you over for pong for the last five minutes.”

“Uh,” Luke says and can feel his face grow warm. 

He hadn’t even heard any of that, to be completely honest. He was little to preoccupied with listening in on whatever dumb story Merkley had been recounting about something he and Dylan got up to last month. It was pretty fun actually; every time Nick tried embellishing a detail, Dylan would pipe up, enthusiastically insisting that  _ this  _ is actually how it happened, Merks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Luke decides, after Schmaltzy’s eyebrow quirks, waiting for an answer. “Just out of it.” 

Schmaltzy shakes his head, smiling, like he used to over the summers that Luke used to train with him and Nick, and Luke would lay on the ground after a run. It’s a face that says ‘you’re an idiot,’ and with a brother like Nick and a friend like Luke, it’s a face he wears often. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, takes another drink of his can before he gets up, clapping Luke on the shoulder as he heads back to the pong table. 

“-- should ask Kunzy about that,” someone is saying, and Dylan nudges his shoulder, effectively bringing his attention back to the crowd on his left. 

“What?” 

Merks smiles, that wide and bright thing that’s usually directed at Dylan. 

“You know what, Kunzy, let me ask you a question,” he says, and Luke smiles, already knows where this is going. “Why’d you wanna play college hockey?” 

“Isn’t it obvious,” Luke says dutifully, pauses to take a drink from his cup. “For the girls.” 

Dylan laughs, ducking his head as he smiles, and it’s a smile that actually reaches his eyes. Luke isn’t sure if he’s seen that happen, not even this weekend. 

The conversation devolves into Miracle quotes, setting everyone off in laughter and terrible impressions of already terrible actors, but Luke isn’t paying attention to any of that, because Dylan has settled even further into the couch and he just looks… comfortable. His legs are propped on the coffee table, easily crossed at the ankle, and he’s still managed to be pressed about as close as he can be to Luke. 

Dylan looks over at him, all flushed and relaxed and Luke can’t help the way his mouth goes a little dry. 

Shaking himself out of it, he pushes himself up and does  _ not  _ use Dylan’s leg for leverage, no matter how much he wants to. 

He goes to step over Dylan’s legs and Dylan tilts his head in question, but Luke shakes his head. 

“Refill,” he says, shaking his not-really-empty cup. Dylan nods, and he’s back in the conversation as if he never left it at all. 

He downs the rest of his drink once he gets to the kitchen, debates making himself another, but decides against it and pours himself some Coke instead. The whiskey is still burning in the back of his throat when Dylan walks in, tosses his own empty cup in the garbage before leaning into the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

Luke isn’t even going to deny checking him out, not even when Dylan turns back around and catches him before he hip-checks the fridge shut. Luke is still looking as Dylan takes a long drink from the water bottle, lowers it with a smirk playing at his lips as he screws the top back on. 

“Hey,” he says, cheeks pinker than they were before. 

Luke smiles, takes a sip of his soda. “Hey, yourself.” 

“When do you head back?” Dylan asks, leans against the fridge. The brim of his hat knocks against the freezer, nearly falling off and he flails a little to catch it. 

Luke laughs, leans against the counter opposite Dylan. “Late tomorrow,” he says, adjusting his own hat. “Why?” 

Dylan nods, thoughtfully, then shrugs. “Just wondering.” 

Luke nods, too, takes a drink from his cup just for something to do with his hands. 

The noise that’s filtering in from the guys in the livingroom is the only thing filling the silence, but it’s not nearly as awkward of a silence as Luke expected it to be. The air is a little charged, and Luke can feel it thrumming under his skin, right on the tip of his tongue with the way he wants to say -- 

“Wanna get out of here?” Dylan says, slow and calculated in a way that Luke’s never heard, setting him even more on edge. 

Luke quirks one eyebrow and Dylan mirrors him, a flash of doubt crossing his face before Luke’s features settle into what he hopes is a smile. 

“Sounds good to me,” Luke says, smirking as he shrugs. He takes another long drink of his soda before leaving the cup on the counter. “Let me go grab my stuff.” 

“Sweet,” Dylan says, smiling. “I’ll meet you in the lobby?” 

“For sure,” says Luke, and then Dylan is heading out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

Luke slips out of the kitchen while the boys are voicing their disdain for Dylan ducking out ‘early,’ as if it’s not already twelve-thirty, and half of them have flights back early tomorrow. He finds the room his coat got dumped in, locates it in the pile on the bed and shrugs it on, heading back out to the living room. 

“Not you, too, Kunzy,” Thatcher crows before Luke has even said a word, but he’s already standing up and coming over to give Luke a bro-hug. “Fuckin’ grandpa.”

Luke claps him on the back a couple times. “Yeah, whatever,” he shrugs off, moves to say his other goodbyes.

Merks side-eyes him, and so does Schmaltzy, but Luke is already a little too keyed up to care. 

He blows his way through the other goodbyes and is down in the lobby of Thatcher’s building sooner than he anticipated. Even then, Dylan is leaning against the wall by the door, one foot propped against it as he scrolls through his phone. He looks up when he hears Luke’s footsteps, greets him with a crooked grin.

“You call an Uber?” Luke asks, and Dylan nods. 

“Should be coming --” Dylan starts, but he’s interrupted by his phone chiming in his hand, “right now, I guess. Good timing.” 

Luke laughs a little, knocks his shoulder into Dylan’s as he heads toward the door. “Happens sometimes.” 

/ 

The ride back is a quick one, so it’s not long before they’re in the elevator of their hotel and Luke is itching to get his hands on Dylan. 

Because what the fuck is his life, right?

They decide on Luke’s room -- well not so much ‘decide’ as opposed to how they walked directly past Dylan’s with no hesitation -- and Dylan barely has his shoes off before he flops onto the full bed in the middle of the room. 

Luke toes off his shoes, shrugs his coat off, and laughs at the sight of him. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dylan smiles, shifts further up so he’s leaning against the headboard. He’s still got his hat on, and his cheeks are still pink, and Luke licks his lips. 

Dylan notices, and he flashes Luke a quick smile. Luke takes that as the invitation as it is and lays next to him. 

“We’re not going to do anything dumb like pretend to watch a movie or something, right?” Luke asks, giving Dylan an obvious once over. “Because, like --” 

Dylan snorts. “God, no.” 

“Sweet,” Luke says, smile broadening. It’s easy, then, to close the gap between them, easier because Dylan meets him halfway, leans over Luke a little as their lips meet. 

And, like, not to be that cliche, but Luke can’t help but realize that Dylan kisses like he plays hockey -- leading the play, reading the situation, moving like he’s got something to prove. All that aside, he’s really fucking good at it and Luke also can’t help but sigh against Dylan’s lips, tug him a little closer.

Dylan makes a soft noise, lays nearly on top of Luke, and Luke lets him.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed with Dylan’s lips on his, but by the time Dylan pulls away to allow them both to catch their breath, Luke’s half-hard against Dylan’s hip, and Dylan isn’t much better. 

“Hey, so,” Dylan says, kissing down the side of Luke’s neck. He stops, presses a kiss to Luke’s jaw and looks up at him. “I’ve got someone, but we’re open. I just -- You should know.”  

Luke shrugs, because he pretty much knew there was something up with him and Merks. 

“I mean, same,” he says, and Dylan smiles before pressing another kiss to the hinge of his jaw. He huffs a little laugh, knowing what Matty would say about Luke hooking up with not only a  _ Canadian  _ but one who was also an  _ Erie Otter, really Luke?  _

“Something funny?” Dylan says, nips a little at the skin he was just kissing. 

Luke shakes his head, lets himself run a hand across Dylan’s shoulders. “The O is fucking weird.” 

“Knew it was Tkachuk,” Dylan laughs, and then he’s back to work on the easy marks he was kissing into Luke’s skin. “Can I blow you?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Luke breathes, eyes flying open to look at Dylan and his stupid grin. “Fucking -- yeah, go for it.” 

“Awesome,” says Dylan, and Luke can’t help but laugh, light and breathless as Dylan moves off of him. 

They adjust so Luke is sitting at the edge of the bed, Dylan kneeling on the floor between his legs, running his hands up Luke’s thighs appreciatively. He doesn’t stall for very long, working Luke’s zipper down and brushing his thumb over where Luke’s straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

Dylan hums appreciatively, palming Luke a little more before tapping at his hip. Luke takes the hint, lifts his hips a little so Dylan can tug his boxers and his jeans down and off his hips. He lets them pool at Luke’s ankles while he takes Luke in hand, stroking easily. 

"Gonna get on with it?" Luke questions, but the fire is lost in the way that his breathing is already a little ragged. 

"Shut up," Dylan quips, then presses a kiss to the side of Luke's dick before taking the tip into his mouth, running his tongue through the precome gathering there. 

Luke lets his eyes flutter shut as he falls back to lean on his elbows, still giving himself a good view of Dylan as he works more of Luke into his mouth. 

Dylan -- well, he knows what he's doing, that's for sure. Just enough suction, no hint of teeth, and perfect tortuous flicks of his tongue to the head. Luke feels like his skin is on fire, and they're not even anywhere close to started, not if Luke has anything to say about it. 

He can't help but sigh a moan, reach back so he can put his hand on Dylan's cheek again, and it's something else entirely to feel himself pushing into Dylan's mouth. There’s pink high on Dylan’s cheeks, and Luke can feel it under the sweep of his thumb and he smiles. 

It’s a bit jarring, really, to remember the last time Luke saw Dylan on his knees. A lost faceoff blown dead for some reason or another, Dylan with the Maple Leaf on his chest and the C over his heart, moments before the shootout was going to start. The phantom weight of Luke’s gold medal is on his chest as Dylan starts to establish a rhythm, but that also just might be his heart trying to beat out of his chest. 

“You know you’re good at this, don’t you,” Luke manages, throat tight and heart hammering. 

Dylan hums, takes Luke a little deeper and swallows around him, sending a shiver all the way down Luke’s spine. His hips push forward, pushing his dick further into Dylan's mouth and he just  _ takes it. _

Luke might prefer Dylan on his knees in this situation even more than the last time. 

“ _ Christ,”  _ Luke sighs, leans back against his elbows again and tips his head back. 

Dylan pulls off, stroking Luke tight and fast as he catches his breath. “Not quite.” 

Luke can’t stop the laugh that escapes, until Dylan stops it for him by taking him just as deep as he had before he pulled off. He gasps, feeling the head of his dick brush the back of Dylan’s throat, the way Dylan swallows around him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Luke groans, stomach swooping as he opens his eyes, looks down at Dylan. He’s got a hand wrapped around the base of Luke’s dick, lips meeting his fist as he builds an easy, shallow rhythm, and it’s driving Luke crazy. “Dylan. Shit, I’m--” 

Dylan pulls off, string of spit connecting his lips to where the head of Luke’s cock is flushed red. “Go for it,” he says, voice raw, and Luke has to take a deep breath as Dylan goes all the way back down again, choking just a little. 

The sound, the feel of Dylan swallowing around him is all it takes for him to stammer out a warning before he comes, open-mouthed and shuddering. Dylan hums as he swallows, pulling off and pressing a kiss to the head of Luke’s cock, laughing a little as Luke hisses, oversensitive. 

Luke is still blinking back stars when Dylan climbs up next to him, jeans off, but that stupid fucking snapback still backwards on his head. 

“You good?” Dylan asks, running a hand up and down Luke’s stomach.

Luke nods, hums an affirmation before saying, “More than.” and pulling Dylan in for a kiss, stupid snapback and all. It’s objectively a little gross, the taste of his come on Dylan’s tongue, but it seems to be working for Dylan, so he’s not going to complain all that much. 

Dylan sucks Luke’s lower lip into his mouth, sets his teeth into it just enough to get Luke to moan, low and in the back of his throat. His brain is finally back online enough to get his hands on Dylan, easy touches over his chest, down his abs, resting at his hip. 

“Can I?” Luke asks against his lips, a little arbitrarily because he can see where he’s hard and glistening with precome against his hip. 

“Duh,” Dylan affirms, kisses Luke firm and a little biting. It’s all the encouragement he needs to wrap a hand around Dylan, stroking easily. 

Dylan moans shamelessly and Luke can’t help but laugh against his lips. “Giving head really does it for you, huh?” 

“Maybe  _ you  _ do it for me,” he says, shaking with laughter of his own, quickly swallowed by a moan as Luke swipes his thumb over the head of Dylan’s cock. 

Luke hums, picks up the pace. “Bet you say that to everyone you sleep with.”

“No, baby, of course not,” Dylan says sarcastically, and Luke can’t help but roll his eyes, lean in to kiss Dylan hard as he tightens his grip, speeds his hand up even more. Luke starts pressing kisses down his jaw, up to the hinge of it and bites softly, earning a gasping “ _ fuck”  _ from Dylan that he wouldn’t mind hearing again. He slows his hand, just enough to get Dylan to sigh heavily.

“Fuck, come on,” he moans, pushing his hips into Luke’s fist, greedy and impatient. “ _ Luke. _ ”

“I’ve got you,” Luke says, bites at the hinge of Dylan’s jaw again. His breath hitches in Luke’s ear, and then his hand is coming up to pull Luke closer, crash their lips together in a sloppy, heated kiss that pulls a moan from both of them. 

“Come on, Dyl,” Luke says, picking the pace back up, twisting with perfect pressure at the head. 

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Dylan gasps again, pushes his hips into Luke’s fist twice more before coming with a groan, spilling into Luke’s fist and onto his own stomach. “Oh, my  _ god _ .” 

Luke smiles, kisses his way up Dylan’s neck until their lips meet again, slow and filthy and nothing like the kisses moments before. Never breaking the kiss, Luke wipes his hand on the blanket, let’s his hand rest slightly-sticky against Dylan’s hips as he kisses his way through the aftershocks. 

When they break to breath, Dylan’s smiling wide and lazy, eyes half lidded. 

“You good?” Luke mimics, brushing a thumb over Dylan’s hipbone. 

Dylan blinks a couple times before letting his eyes slide shut and sighing. “Definitely.” 

They’re able to enjoy the afterglow for a couple moments more, before what’s left of Dylan’s come is starting to dry tacky between Luke’s fingers. 

He peels himself from Dylan and pads over to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wiping his own hand off before coming back to bed and tossing it on Dylan’s stomach with no warning whatsoever.

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Dylan complains, with no reason because Luke definitely made that water warm, fuck you very much. Still, he cleans off his stomach before tossing the rag so some corner of the room. 

Luke turns down the side of the covers Dylan’s currently not starfished on top of, which stirs Dylan a little.  

“Wanna stay?” Luke offers when Dylan sits up. 

He shrugs. “If you’re cool with it. Wanna actually watch a movie?” 

“Sure,” Luke agrees, tossing Dylan the remote from where it was sitting on the side table before moving to grab sweats from his suitcase. 

It’s easy to settle into Dylan’s side and watch whatever trashy movie is on, and it’s almost nice to feel his shoulders shake as he laughs. He’s not even sure he knows what the plot is before he falls asleep against Dylan’s shoulder.

/

When Luke wakes up in the morning, he’s still on top of the comforter and he’s alone. He reaches to silence his alarm, has to brush a piece of paper of his phone to do so. 

It’s not until he’s packing his bag that he picks it up from the floor and smiles at the ten digits and the horrible smiley face. The smile is short lived, however, because where his hat is nowhere to be found, there’s a Roadrunners hat on top of his suitcase. 

He puts it on, backwards of course. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> characters not tagged are nick merkley, thatcher demko, and jordan schmaltz


End file.
